A Doctor Was Needed

November 15, 2017:

After getting beaten up by the Demon Bear Owen and Emery need a doctor. Fortunately Doctor Strange is on the trail of the bear and takes them with him for some patching up and information sharing.

Dr. Strange Sanctum in Greenwich Village

Characters

NPCs: Wong

Mentions: Dani Moonstar

Mood Music: None.


Fade In…

The aftermath of the Demon Bear attack is alot of black feathers, half eaten bagel over somewhere, the rest of it in a puddle of vomit somewhere else. The smell of holy oil, fire, blood, burnt car tires and blood is strong. Idling and still running is a black Charger, driver side door open and the car stopped at an angle with tire skid marks showing it was and abrupt sliding stop that sent the car in a bit of a spin. There are a few daggers and a knife resting on the street and there are two bodies also laying in the street. Owen is over on one side knocked out and Emery's dark blue shirt is soaked with blood from a wound in his chest and a wound in his back…the Irishmans hair has fallen out of its man bun, and his eyes are open but rolled back in his head so only the whites show as he body occasionally jerks as if he is having a seizure.

Owen is indeed out cold in the street. He has scratches and cuts over his arms and neck that have been apparently infested with some sort of demonic maggots. He seems to be in some sort of horrible dream state, moaning on the ground.


Late again.

But the trail grows warmer with each incident. Something the sorcerer is quite sure is of zero relief for the monster’s victims. He needs to figure out a way to anticipate these raids into the material planes. But no divination has helped so far. They seem random, unpredictable. Perhaps the Bear is insane.

It is late but New York never really sleeps. A superhuman battle tends to drive people out, but draws them in as soon as it is over. The curious and the police arrive pretty much at the same time as the Doctor, and Strange needs to be quick to make sure that:

“I am a doctor, let me in,” he is allowed to check the fallen first.

“Please, do not take pictures, the air is ionized and it might be dangerous,” that is raw nonsense and bullshit and it requires quite a bit of his personal magic power to pressure the crowd not to go for their cellphone and start with the flashes, the selfies and Agamotto alone knows what else they can do if they have S-phones.

Quick checkup reveals… infestation, physical, psychic and spiritual damage. Wait, psychic? That is new and alarming. Also, a woman that is souless. This is also new and tragic. But at least she is not dead and maybe the soul can be recovered.

First things first, he mutters an incantation and pulls the men out of their nightmarish hallucinations. Yanking hard, as the psychic attack was so strong. Fortunately mental magics are his specialty.


The psychic attack is what knocked Emery out, stunned him and forced him to lose conciousness. But that dissapated in time….his own abilities are what have trapped him in this state. No hallucinations, on the planes beteen being awake and being asleep the fragments of his past victims queue up for a go.

Right now, he has hot pokers being stabbed into him by a set of identical twins in their late fifties, fat…pudgey and both showing signs of having their throats slit. At the interference from the mental magics…they turn their hands in unison as more fragments swirl into existence around the body of Emery's that is in this realm of sorts, the chains tighten causing his real body to jerk violently, then he is draped bloody and burnt over a post and the whips come out, one fragment, two fragment, three fragments….its a free for all whipping.

This is why he does not sleep everynight, his own inner demons and residue left from the souls he has reaped are having a free for all during this unexpected episode.


With a gasp Owen comes back to this reality. His eyes pop open and he tries to sit up and assess the situation. Where was he? He was a kid a minute ago, reliving a twisted nightmarish version of his own past. But there was a woman shooting arrows at him? And a bear… and.. and.. He frantically searches around and rolls over to start to make it to his feet. About then is when he remembers the infected scratches and cuts. He stays on his hands and knees and inspects the deeper arrow wound on his arm.

"Where is it? Where is she?!"

He shakily tries to stand and then remembers the Irishman. He sees he's still down and exclaims "Why the hell would you bite a bear?!" Yes, these are apparently his important questions from the terrifying encounter. Odd priorities.


Strange gasps and pulls out of Emery’s mind with a wince. Supernatural. Something like a curse? But at least he got Owen out. “Please, calm down. I am a doctor and I will attend your injuries in a minute. But I need to wake up this man first.”

And quickly. Police and ambulances are on the way. Sirens and everything.

Strange stands up and considers. "You just confronted a deranged spirit," he tells Owen. "I hope you are willing to take a small further step into the supernatural. I promise I won’t hurt you, I am a member of the Justice League, if it is of any help."

Then the dark-haired man makes a few complex sings with his hands, and a circle of light sprouts in the middle of the sidewalk, spreading into a hole into what looks like an elegant dining room. "Please, follow me, Mr…?" He glances at Emery and Nimisha, and they levitate from the ground and go through the hole. "Doctor Strange, at your service," he adds to Owen, following the floating sleepers.

To his Sanctum. Heavily guarded against evil magics, it might be enough to wake up Emery from the dark dream. Otherwise an adrenaline shot it is. Sometimes magic is not needed.


The Irishman is physically shocked into being awake at the shift of location, but it is sudden and unexpected like shoving a hand into a bullet hole and yanking out some bone with the bullet. His body is not used to this type of dimensional shifts so his survival inpulse flares up and he wakes up screaming, it is a deep type of scream…fulled with anguish and pain.

Bewildered by the encounter and the awful sickness that is starting to reassert itself now that he is once again conscious Owen struggles to understand who Dr. Strange is or what is happening around him. At the mention of the justice league, Owen raises his fists and blinks as if that's a cue to fight. "Justice lea-.." wait, no, he wasn't robbing a bank this time. Heroes, good.

Just as Owen figures out that basic bit of reality it shifts again. He walks up and replies "Owen. Just.. Owen." He's pretty sure he never fought against Dr. Strange as Captain Boomerang, but why bring up his full name right now, just in case.

As the Irishman screams, Owen steps away and ducks a bit as if that's going to attract bears, well maybe one specific demon bear anyway. He's a bit twitchy, just now.


Strange arches an eyebrow at the Emery’s reaction, stepping back in the case he becomes violent. He was still floating a few feet on the air, so he lets him hover down slowly. “Please, sir, calm down,” he request in his best ‘doctor’ voice. “You are safe here.”

It is a nice and pleasant living room, really. Just don’t open the door at the back, the one with the brass latch.

“Would you like some tea?” He adds, friendly-like.


Trembling slightly and taking deep gasping breaths as he slumps against the floor, closing his eyes after he catches a glimpse of Nimisha and he reaches a hand out towards her, feeling for something that cannot be seen and then collapsing against, taking another deep breath. He swallows and asks in a soft whisper. "Did it get anybody else?"


"Tea?" Owen looks down at the wounds in his arms. Alternatively rubbing and scratching at his skin, he looks back at the doctor incredulously, "Unless that's doctor talk for a bump of fenatnyl, a couple oxys to chase and some Jack to wash it down with? I think I'll pass on the tea." He looks around and realizes this isn't a hospital, or really anything remotely medical looking.

"If it's alright with you, I'm going to bleed on your couch." Standing doesn't feel so great, and he'd rather not throw up again so sitting seems like a good idea. He doesn't wait for a reply before unceremoniously taking a seat, to examine his arms a bit better.


“No, I don’t believe so,” replies Strange, his tone somber. “Doctor Stephen Strange,” he says to Emery. Then glances at Owen. “My apologies, Mr. Owen. Let me see those injures, please. A basic exorcism should dissolve those creatures back into the aether.”

At that moment a slight oriental man in an oriental robe slides in quietly from outside, doing a double take at the gathering. “I’ll bring some rum,” he offers. “Yes, good idea, Wong,” replies Strange quickly.

Time to exterminate (exorciminate?) some bugs. Which means he taps the golden amulet around his neck and makes a gold light flow over Owen. The itch fades, although the physical injuries remain. "No problem about the blood. This couch has seen quite a bit of that already. Usually mine."


The Irishman, Emery takes a deep breath and gestures towards Nimisha before he pushes himself up to a seated position, rubbing a hand over his face, exhaling shakily and assesing his own injuries, lashes fluttering as he processes a few things for himself. A look to Strange and he exhales softly and then looks over to Owen and finally clears his throat. "Emery Papsworth, Professional Butler and Certified Personal Assistant." He is getting his voice back, that Irish lilt coloring his words. He takes another deep breath. "Thank…ye kindly for your hospitality."


Blinking a bit at the Mr. Owen part, Owen cants his head to the side. This place, and both of the two gentlemen with him are far fancier than he is used. He readily agrees when talk of rum comes up though, "Yea yea." and pointing at Wong "I like him.."

He raises his arms in a half question at the talk of taking care of his parasite buddies. For some reason he feels the need to stay very still when the golden light washes over him, but once it's done he quickly checks his skin and exhales. "Phew.. yes. Thanks Steve."

Glancing over at the Irishman, Owen quirks a brow at Emery's title. "Really?" Is all he can manage because well, do people even have butlers any more? And do they usually have flaming swords, throwing knives and go around biting bears? If so, being rich is even better than Owen thought.


Strange smiles briefly. "You are welcome, Mr. Papsworth. This is truly the least I can do, as that monstrous bear is something I should have stopped weeks ago. Now it is getting stronger and I can't find it. Tonight I was ten minutes late."

"Please, let me treat your wounds. I was a real doctor in medicine before learning magic. Meanwhile, I'd like to hear the story of this last attack." And he approaches the still floating woman. "I can't do much for her. I'll keep her body safe as maybe her soul can still be recovered."

Strange could believe a butler wields a flaming sword, but he has been in the game far longer than Owen. See? His own butler/bodyguard can out-kung-fu almost anyone short of Daredevil. And Wong is also sharp enough to realize when stiff drink is better than tea. A skill that eludes Strange.

And Wong brings back a bottle of Jamaican rum and several glasses with ice.


"Aye, really." Emery replies to Owen, rolling his shoulders and looking down to his bloody chest and twisting slightly. Yep, that shooting pain tells him he really was stabbed. "Do you really know what ye be up against Doctor Feelgood?" He glances over to Nimisha. "She needs to stay calm and unconcious and physically at peace..her soul is in so much pain right now…"
He exhales shakily, running fingers through his now filthy hair, cringing at the grime. "Its found an avatar to assist it, and she is a real vicious little witch….as if Smokey the Dick wasn't a pain in the arse to start with…" A look to Strange. "You are lucky you are gorgeous…or else I would be resisting medical care." He pulls his shirt up and over his head….exposing the tattoos on his arms, the enochian symbols around his bicep, the rosary and cross on his other arm, but the major piece is an elaborate tattoo on his full back….detailed angel wings, with tiny prayers and invocations tattooed along the column of his spine in latin, very tiny and part of the wing design. He also has a wound from getting an arrow between his pec and shoulder and a vicious stab wound a few inches above his left kidney.


As talk turns to Nimisha, Owen glances again at the woman's floating body. It all seems relatively normal to him now that there are demon bears that eat souls and the rest. He just needed a minute to adjust to it. That doesn't mean he understands any of it. This type of stuff is usually handled by a different set of folks in his line of work.

Flopping his head back to rest Owen starts to realize how drained he is from the over use of his powers. He closes his eyes for a minute but immediately remembers the nightmares, not so much reliving them, as realizing that others saw their effects on him. His eyes pop open and he eagerly looks to Wong with a raised finger, hoping for that drink.


“Interesting tattoos,” comments Strange blandly. And quite amazing Emery is still moving and talking with those injuries. “Now, I am afraid healing magics are too close to necromancy for my tastes, so prefer just to boost the natural healing process after some conventional treatment. Hopefully you will be fine in a few days, instead of weeks.”

He starts working, cleaning the wounds, applying painkillers and sewing, which he does telekinetically since his hands are surprisingly damaged, covered with scars.

“A woman you say?” He asks. “Can you describe her to me? Was she a Native American per chance?”

Wong quietly serves Owen a generous amount of expensive rum, and sets another glass for Emery.


Emery takes the glass when it is offered, gritting his teeth and just closing his eyes as floating first aid products are…tending to his wounds. He murmurs a soft prayer, crossing himself and then proceeding to drain that glass in record time, holding up a one moment finger. When he has finished he exhales shakily and swallows and nods again. "Aye. I know who..she may be. Poor wee girl….if she is the avatar that means she is like Nimi over tere." He nods towards Nimisha. "But…I tiink he has five or six souls by now….greedy soulmunching arsehole."


It's not a contest, but Owen also downs his drink just about as fast as one can without using super speed. He motions to Wong that a refill is needed and adds, "Yea, it was strange that she wasn't demonic. Normal weapons, minus the knock out arrow and whatever mind trick she pulled, but that seemed more metahuman than magic, there was no spell casting.." here Owen mimes the finger waving, but it looks a bit more like spirit fingers. "Or crazy dead languages involved." Oddly enough he seems well-versed in sizing up opponents and categorizing abilities, even if he is less trained in things like manners, as he props his feet up on the table in front of him.


“Not many would dare tattoo Enochian glyps on their skin,” decides Strange, bandaging Emery’s torso quickly. Then sighs and moves to a table, cleaning his hands with a handkerchief along the way. He picks a printed picture. “SHIELD Agent Danielle Moonstar,” he shows the other men the picture. “Just got this from a PI. It is the woman, isn’t she? She was the Bear’s target all the time. She was the fated hunter, and the demon caught her. And now… instead of leaving it is going into some insane rampage. It is not acting like it should. I don’t think this corrupt spirit is sane even for demon standards.”

Proof: Emery and Owen got to keep their souls. “Lets see your wounds now, Owen.”


Emery looks to his bicep and then up at Strange and then back down to his bicep, jaw setting as he flashes back to the needle and the dainty fingers and the multiple bottles of whiskey and the straps, staring off into space before coughing softly and flashing a dimple yet pained grin. "It was either that the tramp stamp." A wink before he lifts his glass to Wong in a quiet motion of gratitude.

"Oh…" Emery breathes out when he sees the picture. "I know that poor girl…we met, after the first time I fought the bear. Her pegasus liked me or sommat and gave my name to her." But back to the topic at hand. "Power, Doctor Sexy Eyes. Souls give ye power and that is a rush and a high that cannot be caught anywhere else." A look over to Owen. "And I bit the bear because me hands were busy."


Glancing down at his arms, Owen has barely thought about them. It's really just minor scratches besides the bicep wound from an arrow, but he is bleeding quite a bit and should get them looked at. He obligingly strips off his shirt though and takes his feet down to sit up a little straighter. His physical response is very military, just compliance.

"SHIELD? Yea.. she had the complete and utter lack of a sense of humor to be SHIELD." He seems intrigued about the Pegasus and the souls bit. But ultimately as to laugh and respond to the bear bit "Dude, that was fuckin' BAD. ASS." with a couple points of the finger for emphasis.


"It is not a Pegasus but something even more unusual," corrects Strange idly, working on cleaning the arrow wound. "Which must be quite the story. A mortal Native American is a very unusual choice for a Valkyrie from Asgard. And I have no doubt it makes Miss Moonstar carry even more karmic weight in this situation." Pause, "apologies, I am thinking out-loud. Keep the arm in a sling for three days, Owen. Should be enough for the muscles to meld, you are lucky it missed arteries."


Emery smirk at Owen and tips an invisible hat. "It worked…but if that ting gets stronger than even m-" He cuts himself off. "If it gets stronger, it could go on a murder spree just to feed." Then he listens carefully, head tilting to the side as he stores the new information…." There is a pause as he gestures towards Nimisha. "Can ye keep her…safe? I need to…know she is okay. I have known her or over 45 years…she takes care of my daughter. She did not deserve this." He makes his way over to her side, swaying slightly on his feet and shaking his head quickly to clear the webs of exhaustion. "The Bear is sane enough to have vendettas. This was…personal."


Owen replaces his tee shirt and neatly folds his other shirt into a reasonable sling. He slips these back on before re-taking his seat on the couch. To Emery, Owen "Ye didn' call the bear after makin sweet, sweet love to it, didja? It's yer own fault then for being a jerk." Yea, he has nothing of value to add to the conversation and starts looking around for where that bottle of rum went off to.


Strange hmms. Vendettas. High chance it will come looking from him, then. That bear did not like the light of the Eye a bit. "It left you alive. And took this woman's soul," he sighs. "I can keep her safe, and make sure no other spirit takes her body. But without her soul she will very likely die in a few weeks."

Finally Wong refills Owen's glass. Maybe the Asian man doesn't want to listen to more jokes.

"Hunting this beast is my job, gentlemen. I will redouble my efforts. Please contact with me if you find something else.

Once the men feel ready, they are led to the door out. It seems they were still in New York. 177A Bleecker Street. A townhouse that if they had been in the area somehow neither had seen before.

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